


Chapter One

by phrozen_feonix



Series: A Study in Alchemy [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Insults, Multiverse, Swearing, college students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5847088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrozen_feonix/pseuds/phrozen_feonix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've got an old friend to look over my writing from this point forward, so hopefully things will  improve! Critique is always appreciated. Have a nice read.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've got an old friend to look over my writing from this point forward, so hopefully things will improve! Critique is always appreciated. Have a nice read.

My University days are my fondest memories to visit now and again. Studying abroad, learning a new dialect, and meeting the strangest people. The most peculiar being a Mister Sherringford Holmes.

It was move-in day at Marcoh University, an unusually dreary day for Central in the summer. Myself and twenty other students followed a gent named Rowan Thőmas, a spritely man in his mid-eighties with silver hair and a kind smile in his blue-grey eyes, as pointed out useless bits of trivia about the circular campus. He stopped us beneath a small grove of ash trees, the tall tan man turning to face his charges. 

“And to your left we have Mercury Hall, housing the dining court, the Dean of Students office, and most of the professors’ offices If you have any questions, please direct them to Miss Wentworth at the front desk,” he expounded with glee. “And we’re walking.” Again, the man spun on his heel and took a step forward.

“Any particular reason the Fűrer’s mansion was turned into turned into Mercury Hall?” a young man’s voice questioned from above. 

“As I understand it,” Rowan started, turning his gaze to the trees, ”since the Fűrer King Bradley’s disappearance, the house went unoccupied for over a decade before the University’s founding. It was silly to waste a building in surprisingly good condition, so it was used as the foreman's office while the rest of the campus was constructed. May I ask why any of this matters?”

A moment later and a young man jumped out of the tree, taking several leaves with him. He stood six feet high, with a deep tan to his skin, irides of a deep blood hue, and chocolate messy hair that was shaved on the sides. His white, untucked button down and dark denim jeans hung on his thin frame like a wet towel on the line. He swapped his oversized black leather-bound book for a small flip pad and ruby sunglasses in his black leather shoulder bag. With the notebook and pen from behind his ear in one hand and his shades on his nose, he turned to Rowan and gave him a small nod. 

“For the time being, no,” he replied with a faint smile, “Now, if you’ll excuse me..”

“Who let the red devils attend college?” a girl from the middle of the group shouted. She had a smug smirk painted on her fat face. “I thought this institution was the best in the country, and…”

“That is enough!” Rowan exclaimed as he stormed his way through the crowd. “We have a strict policy against hate speech on this campus. If you take issue with it, you can speak with the Dean about it. She’s on the third floor, second door to your right.” He stood face to face with the twat, almost yelling at her. 

“Rowan, there’s no need to defend me,” the Ishvalan stated. “I expect nothing less from the child of an Amestrian Supremacist.” Smug was replaced with anger quick as the man spoke. “I find the rule to be unnecessary any way. Ideas, both good and bad, should be challenged, never silenced. If she thinks she has something of value to say, let her."

The woman raised a lone finger in anger before the male student silenced her.

“Before you ask, between the hideous side bang, massive waistline, and brilliant crimson hand-sewn Xingese luggage with the initials ‘D.T.’ stitched into every panel, your identity is clear. And considering everything that can be mass-produced with either Alchemy or Alkahestry, including luggage, is made in Xing. Only the Emperor's possessions are handmade in this day in age, so you’ve either stolen invaluable museum pieces or you’ve got enough money to pay the royal seamstress to make them for you. And I don’t recall any major robberies in the past month…,” he stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

Everyone in the group, myself included, stared in silence at the man for a good five minutes. Rowan gave him an approving nod and offered him a place on the tour. The Ishvalan accepted and stood at the back of the group next to me. 

The tour itself lasted another twenty-minutes, but neither I nor the Ishvalan paid any attention. For reasons unknown to me at the time, he measured the distance between the building, counted the trees and made note in his small book. I, however, watched the man to understand how he picked apart the girl so well.

“And that concludes our tour. Behind me is the Terra Hall dormitories. Female dorms are on the left side of the hall with the male’s on the right. I hope you all have an enjoyable and successful experience at Marcoh,” Rowan shouted with a warm smile, walked around the group and made his way to Mercury Hall. 

In a near single-file line we entered the dorm. A few freshmen were fortunate enough to be housed on the first floor and left with their things rolling behind them. Myself, the Ishvalan, the mong and her posse were staying on the next floor up and all of us and our possessions huddled into the tiny lift. 

“Please do be careful,” the red-eyed man whispered in a sombre tone. “The bags you’re using are almost two-hundred years old, and you’ve already ruined them with the wheels you’ve haphazardly attached...”

“And who the hell are you to humiliate me in the middle of campus?!” she exclaimed in my left ear.

“The name is Sherringford Holmes, if you must know,” he replied as the lift reached it’s destination. “And considering how poorly you did in highschool, I can’t your college experience being successful or last longer than a semester, Donna Trumpen.” He stopped, stepped out of the lift with his things and turned to face Donna. “Have a nice day.”

Before the door could close, myself and another young man left with our bags and I fell to the floor with the laughter I had been holding in for far too long.

“That was fantastic!” I exclaimed as the laughs began to subside.

“Really? I do that to everyone and I’m used to a slap to the face or a broken nose,” he said as he stretched his hand to me. 

“I’m Victor Trevor, by the way. A pleasure,” I said as he helped me to my feet. 

“Thank you,” he said as he let go of me. Confusion crept onto his face as he took a moment to study me. “Might I ask where you’re from.”

“Aerugo, on Amestris’ southern border,” I replied as we walked down the bare, narrow corridor. 

“Ah, that’s why I don’t recognise your thick accent,” he nodded. “So, besides the obvious, what brings you so far from home?”

“Freedom from my nagging sister, a different view of the Universe, and the usual crap. If it’s not too rude to ask, how did you know about Donna’s grades?”

“She’d forgotten I was her math tutor our senior year. She’d always stomp in, throw her exams and homework on the table and demand to know where the teachers went wrong. No respect for anyone she didn’t know or like nor for the rules of the library…,” Sherringford said as he fiddled with his pockets. “Considering she never paid attention during our sessions and never did any better, she still managed to graduate with honors. I assume her father paid for her diploma the same way he paid for her University acceptance. If the Deans’ and President have half a brain cell between them, she’ll be kicked out of the University when the mid-terms are done.” He pulled out a set of keys as we stopped before a door label ‘21b.’

“You give the University so little credit?” I asked as I dug in my back pocket in search of my dorm assignment letter.

“They accepted an under-performing student on the sole basis of money. Why should I give greedy individuals any slack?” he asked with a smirk. “And this, my friend, is where I leave you. Terra Hall, second floor, room 21b. See you.”

I waved goodbye as he closed the door. I opened my letter, and after walking a few feet from Sherringford’s door I realised I’d walked too far. I turned around, walked to my dorm, and knocked.

“Victor, what are you doing here?” Sherringford asked with annoyance heavy in his voice. 

“We were assigned the same dorm,” I replied with glee as I handed him my letter. He let me in and glanced over my paperwork.

“I guess that explains this…” His tone grew soft as he threw a wadded sheet of paper at me.

_ Dearest Sher, Congratulations on your first day of University! I’ll spare you the obvious college advice and apologize for your living situation. I know you requested and was approved for your own dorm, but given your choice in extra curriculars in recent years I thought it best for you to have a roommate. I’ve selected someone who would be good for your mind; a mystery, if you will _

_ Have fun, Mycroft.  _

Sherringford, halfway to the top of our bunk bed, yelped in pain and came crashing to the floor. 

“Who let a dog in the dormitories,” he yelled as he pulled the bull terrier off his ankle.

“Sorry about Baz, he likes to greet strangers with a bit of a nip,” I replied, having picked him up by his scruff. 

“He’s yours? I don’t remember seeing him among the other students nor in the elevator…,” he puzzled as he pulled himself up with the bedpost.

“I usually have a tight leash on him. He’s always been a good and quiet boy,” I explained as I showed Sherringford the brown leash. 

It wasn’t a moment later when I felt my right shoe get warm and wet after putting Baz down; the bloody twat had the lovely idea to pee on my shoe while giving me the worst glare a terrier can give.

“I can tell. Urinating on your master is the best trait of a well-behaved dog,” he quipped. He limped his way over to the desk and pulled out a small first-aid kit from the bottom drawer. “He’s had his shots, yes? I have no interest in going through four rounds of rabies vaccinations.”

“He has; they needed to up to date before he could stay in the dormitories with me.”

“And why do you need him with you exactly?” He looked up confused as he finished wrapping his ankle like a professional.

“Anxiety issues. I don’t do well in enclosed spaces, large or small, so having Baz around keeps me from having panic attacks…,” I answered in a small tone. 

The next moment or so was spent in silence; whether he was studying or marking me in the ‘weird’ column is unknown to me.

“Fine,” he started again with reservation, “but the first night I wake up and step in dog shit, I’m tying him to the outer knob. Fair?”

“Not really, but I don’t have a choice,” I replied with a frustrated shrug.

“Good.” He climbed to the top bunk in a sluggish manner, laid down, and pulled a rather thick book from beneath his pillow.

“Wouldn’t be easier for you on the bottom bunk, given your ankle…” I asked, peering at him through the metal railing of the top bunk.

“No,” he said as he snapped his book shut and rolled over to face me. “I’ve got my bed and books arranged the way I need them. I’m not spending another five hours taking down books, removing shelving then reorganizing everything because of a bruised ankle on a bruised ankle. Besides, you have a dog to walk and I’m not interested in listening to metal creak whenever you’re on the ladder.” 

After that I threw my hands up in defeat and walked away. After bringing in all of my bags from the hall, I closed the door and spent the rest of my day unpacking in silence.

  
  



End file.
